To the Farthest Reaches
by theBrillianceofNight
Summary: Because you can't always keep to the midzones and you'll inevitably end up having to run to one extreme or another. Because there aren't only two extremes. Because this is the life we're -cursed awarded doomed gifted assigned- living right now.
1. Darkest

I'm a tomboy and I know it. If not for my mother's appearance in the single picture I have of my family, I'd be right at home with bound breasts, short hair, wife beaters and cargos.

As it is, I wonder sometimes how freeing that would be. I wouldn't really be pretending, it'd just be myself in feathers more fitting to my own personality.

I know I'm not perceptive about the things that actually matter, and while my projectile aim is ten out of ten and I never misstep in battle, my attempts at ascribing peoples' characteristics are always off kilter. Too much spin and less wind than I realize, or the target is farther away or too close and I trip and fall and smash it to smithereens—

I imagine I'd be black.

Everyone says Ino's purple, Hinata is white, Neji is silver, Sakura's pink, Naruto is orange, Sasuke is black, and they can never seem to place me.

I disagree.

Ino is pink and Sakura is white, because while they've both only caught glimpses of only the shadows that Death employs, Ino's innocence is tinged with a touch too much rouge, too much flirting and want for another person, and Sakura is really a bluish-white, pastel-y, with the freshness of morning sky that gets a bit sickening when you've seen it far too much.

Hinata isn't white. She's seen Death, been close to it herself, been torn down so much she's struggling to stand firm, so she's not lavender or lilac, or snow or sugar, but she's a resolute indigo, a shade that stays true to itself even as you pour in the black, dump in the white. Hinata stays strong, but she's still got a breaking point even if she's not as delicate as people imagine.

Neji is no silver. He's tarnished gold, with so much talent and potential stained by death and second-guessing, all of the pride and yet he's soft on the inside, unsure and unsteady, with the malleability of pure gold.

Naruto is not orange and Sasuke is not black. They are both shades of gray, so fundamentally alike in composition but so seemingly contrasting in appearance that even they can't see past the outside. Naruto is the bright silver lining while Sasuke is the dark storm cloud, but neither has use or appreciation without the other. Few people like storm clouds but for the silver lining, and yet, the silver lining is invisible and meaningless in blue skies unless the storm backs it up.

I'm jade on the outside because it feels right, being decorative and pretty, like wearing the filigree and keeping my breasts unbound, even considering the push-up bra and the lacy dresses at all, but on the inside I'm black, the me I'm afraid to let out because it would be so different, it would be going around in a different skin.

I've stared Death in the face, willingly, and some of its curling tendrils have seeped into my soul and started to stain my heart, but it's comforting.

You see everything in stark sunlight, but in the darkness, no one has to even know you're there.

I debate whether I should stay true to the past I'm not even sure of, or true to the inside I'm not completely aware of, true to the history I don't want to let go, or true to my deepest wished.

I suppose I'd be black as murderous indecision and as black as the cold, lying heart of a killer, but then, isn't that what I'm striving to be? I'd be black as Naruto's secrets and as black as Sasuke's memories and I wonder if I'm in the wrong group of friends because I don't belong with discolored gold earnest crimson and perhaps I fit in with shades of gray because I'm not white, not black.

I'm ocean blue, pale yellow, and then I'm deep emerald, a touch lighter than the forest at midnight and darker than jealousy, and yet, I feel a medium gray.

And so my self-evaluation is constantly changing, unsettlingly incomplete, and there's something I'm missing that, for the life of me, I can't identify.

Maybe it's because I'm not very good at reading or characterizing people.

Or perhaps it's because I'm frighteningly correct and the truth is darker than silence.

* * *

><p>AN: I know this is choppy and run-on, sounding poetic one second and horrible the next, jumping around, but there's a reason for that. It's supposed to reflect Ten-ten's own indecision and constant change, and that's also why the end is really unsatisfactory and… hanging. It bugs me, but I feel it really expresses the unsettled mood I'm trying to set.


	2. Blackest

Naruto's complaining aside, I know I'm not very feminine, but what I _am_ is an actor. The pink hair happens to help, but sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to have Ten-ten's endowment, or Ino's effortless charm.

Sometimes I catch myself muttering, and it disturbs me, the thoughts I have, the instincts I turn to, because, really, I'm a kunoichi and I'm supposed to be more nurturing and more ruthless, but instead I'm more cruel and more sensitive and somehow the wrong mix of paradoxes.

None of the steadiness I wish I had, although shinobi are characteristically unhinged because of all the death they've seen and caused. I wonder, though, if they're unhinged as a result of all of the death, or if they had to be unhinged first in order to deal with all the death. And then I wonder why I speak of shinobi as though they are lab specimens to be studied, as if I am not one myself.

Ino showed me a black rose, once. I was disappointed because it was more of a dark, dull, dusty purple than the velvet black I'd been imagining and hoping for. Red roses remind me of blood. White used to mean pure, but now all I see is a pain in the ass to clean, too easily dirtied, and black has become the color of innocence. Black that stains onto others, changing them slowly but surely and yet never becoming tainted itself.

Because, really, it's a sad thought if innocence is that easily shattered and if people can never regain their purity, and I'm a sucker for hope.

And so I go out on missions, spilling blood and having nightmares about red and vowing to dye my clothing black at the next chance I get so I can finally feel clean.

I'm scrubbing the white that is now stained an ugly brown because of the child I couldn't save and because of the murderer I couldn't soothe and because of the mother I couldn't sedate and everything muddles up and the whole time I'm thinking of roses, roses a shade blacker than night.

* * *

><p>AN: I just realized neither this one or the last one really explicitly point out which character is which, so the last one was Ten-ten and this one is Sakura.


	3. Highest

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be drunk or drugged, up to the point that nothing matters. No feeling, no sense of responsibility, so messed up on chemicals that it's a wonder you heart is still beating. Then it just stops and you can't be bothered to be bothered.

The thought frightens me, and yet it sound exhilaratingly freeing.

Not that I'd ever do so. I have ambitions and dreams, and if I am going to survive that long, I can't afford such a weakness and distraction.

But that doesn't stop me from wondering what it would be like to have wings.

I've heard of people characterizing their personalities as animals. I can only think of three people whose souls would have wings.

Sasuke would be some bird of prey. Maybe a red-tailed hawk, waiting up high for someone to prey on, but never watching his back because he is so proud. A fierce predator, but with one eye blind, because he isn't perfect, not even close.

Naruto would be something like a peregrine falcon, some winged thing that flies high and fast in the sky, taunting Sasuke as they ride the thermals and rise incredibly high into the heavens, up and up and up.

The third person would be Shino.

He'd be an elusive creature of the night, an owl or maybe a bat, so competent and with such potential that you are never able to even catch a glimpse of him. Never able to tell if it's potential for good or potential for bad, because he flies so high that you only catch the faintest scent his presence, like the smell of smoke barely tainting the breeze, or the smallest golden twinkle. And you wonder if you're missing out or if it's for your own safety that you don't know.

But we've all got so much potential and talent, myself included; I'll stretch out on my fingertips and the tips of my toes and reach up to my goals because I know I'll make it some day.

Even when I sink to the deepest depressions, my goals will always be glittering on that slope, calling out to me to jump just that much higher, to extend myself that much more.

And one day I will have wings too, when Sasuke has become the lord of the birds, when Shino has become his stealthy shadow and yet Naruto is still beating Sasuke, challenging him to reach new, higher heights, and I will be there with my hard earned wings.

I will be there, waiting to ask, "What took you so long?"

* * *

><p>AN: From Hinata's thoughts.


	4. Loudest

People call me a gossip magnet.

Of course, it's never to my face, but if it happens, it will quickly find its way to my ears.

Not because people tell me.

Because I know how to listen.

Past the added details and the twists of interpretation, there is always some grain of truth that the monster sprouts from.

It's that grain of truth that has me sifting through some of the most unpleasant and disturbing rumors in existence.

That Sarutobi Asuma is a pimp and Y ūhi Kurenai is a whore.

That Inuzuka Tsume is a child abuser.

That Rock Lee and Maito Gai have inappropriately intimate relations.

That Kakashi was neglecting Uchiha Sasuke and that inattention caused his defection.

That Uzumaki Naruto is bound to destroy the village one day.

But the truth is eye-opening and often chilling.

Kurenai is pregnant with Asuma's child, and someone is murderously jealous.

Tsume disciplines her son for provoking his classmates and defying authority, and someone wants her to lose custody of her children.

Lee and Gai are practically family, and someone wants to steal away their happiness.

Kakashi neglected Sakura and Naruto but favored Sasuke, and something much more sinister called Sasuke away.

Naruto is despised and feared for something that is beyond his control.

And sometimes the truth is such a quiet whisper that you have to strain to pick out its words.

Voices like Naruto's, and Sakura's, Lee's and Ten-ten's.

And sometimes the lies are screaming to cover up a truth they don't want discovered.

Those such as Sasuke's, Hinata's, Kakashi's and Shikamaru's.

Sometimes to protect, because little siblings and teammates-turned-family who are blissful in ignorance don't need to know of the horrors hidden beneath the surface.

Sometimes out of self-defense, because souls are delicate and the strongest people can shatter at a single touch.

Oftentimes, the walls are built for support.

And sometimes I feel that my voice screams.

Sharing the truth about those who have been hurt.

Lying to keep others from hurting.

Pretending I don't hear the rumors.

Pretending I can't pick out the 'truths' people believe.

Pretending I don't care.

Pretending I don't hurt.

Louder and louder, so, maybe, one day I can finally experience peace because no one can breach the walls and my voice rises loudest of all.

* * *

><p>AN: From Ino's P.O.V.


	5. Tightest

Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating.

I went from one cage to another, but at least I'm learning here.

But every once in a while, I'll feel a tug on my heartstrings.

Like someone wrapped a hand around my heart and is slowly squeezing, tighter and tighter and tighter-

And someone has to take that pain and deal with it.

It's not going to be me.

So I tug on the wrist chained to my target's heart and hope he has to deal with the pain on his own.

I have to hold on with both hands and yank, because shinobi have few things they can trust.

Among them are our workmanship, our skills, and our pasts.

Naruto once told me to look to the future, because even if it's constantly changing, it is always there for the taking.

But say he dies.

His future is gone.

His past is still there.

So I latch onto the past with everything I have, tying it to me so it can't escape (and so I never forget), so that I always have something to rely on, even when my knots unravel or fail to come undone.

Even if I fall short of expectations or exceed them.

Even when nothing goes the way I expect it to, the past, _my _past, will always be there. It will never change (unless, of course, it does).

Even when I know I'm dying and my future disappears within arm's length, my past will stay unchanged.

Maybe interpretation will, but cold, hard facts are just that.

Firm and steady.

Naruto would point out the "cold". Say it makes a difference.

It doesn't. What does a rock care if it's frozen in ice or on the verge of melting point?

It doesn't. Care, that is (not like _him_). Nothing changes facts but interpretation. Interpretation is in the eye of the beholder, and I don't plan on becoming soft and weak-willed, wavering in my resolve, unsure in the face of the ever-changing future.

No, I'll take two handfuls of the ever-present past, secure my grip, and jump.

I'm planning on hitting the ground running, firm grip on the past that has never betrayed me.

(Even as it drags me down and drowns me.)

* * *

><p>AN: Sasuke's P.O.V.


	6. Lightest

I've been told that I hold on too tight. That when I gain a friend, I hold on and never let go, often strangling my precious one in the process.

I don't believe so.

My friends are important to me. They're my family, they are precious.

But I don't have the tightest grip.

Not like Sasuke, whose life is centered around Itachi.

_I_ let Sasuke go. If I were as jealously possessive as everyone makes me out to be, Sasuke would be dead. I'd have killed him for even considering leaving us. Me.

I'm capable of being that selfish. But I loosened my grip, let him slip through my fingers.

Sure, I still give chase, but to let him know that I'll still accept him, that I will allow him to come back.

If I had such a tight grip, he'd be crushed as soon as he stopped resisting.

Sakura tells me I need to let go of him.

I have.

_She_ hasn't.

She still goes on about how it's her fault that he left. She hasn't let him go. In her mind, he escaped from the chains she put on him, so it's not likely he'll return. She's still lingering, holding the broken links with a fractured heart, because she still hasn't let go and her heart is being dragged along.

Kakashi hasn't let go either.

He still can't completely compute that Sasuke is gone. Everything _isn't_ okay, and he can't possibly let go of his burdens until he lets the grieving process run its course.

He tells me to give up, to let go, but I already have.

Not giving up isn't holding on. I've let go in my own way, and all I do is keep a light shining so that Sasuke knows where to come back to, knows that it's not too late to turn around and take my hand and tighten the grip, both ways, so we can help each other up or fall together.

And until that moment, when his hand wraps around mine, outstretched, and maybe he acknowledges Sakura's clinging arm on his ankle, and perhaps he notices Kakashi's iron grip on his shoulder, but until then, I float like a feather, but tethered like a kite.

Dipping like a boat on stormy seas, but eternally rising into the heavens like a balloon, string flicking just out of reach for just anyone who tries to get a grip, but hanging down for those who aren't "just anyone", for those who are precious to me.

Rising higher and higher as my string lengthens, still there for those special people to reel me in, but never knotted around wrists, because I have the loosest grip.

* * *

><p>AN: From the P.O.V. of Naruto.


End file.
